Shielding myself from the brighter side

I am once again brushing myself off after being knocked down by a bully in this playground called life.

I have to admit that I am getting a bit tired of receiving life’s jabs.

Similar to the way I discovered I have scoliosis, my latest altercation occurred much by accident and was brought on by a bit of vanity on my part.

For several months, I have had red, raw, flaky, and basically unattractive skin under and surrounding my nose. I look like I have had a cold for the past 4 months.

I have had similar issues with my skin decades ago when I was in college. I initially thought that the stress of my brief employment caused the dreaded dermatitis from my college days to appear once again. After two months of unemployed bliss, my rash remained and I decided it was time for some action.

I made an appointment with a dermatologist.

When I made the appointment, I explained my vanity issue and I also stated that I would like a skin check as I enjoy being outdoors, sometimes miss spots with the sunscreen, and as I am a Dalmatian (quite pale and covered with spots: freckles and moles), I realize the importance of yearly mole checks.

Due to the secondary reason of my visit, I got to meet the dermatologist dressed fashionably in a paper gown which is always a good start to an appointment.

The discussion about my face was quick and succinct and involved a really “cool” pocket magnifying glass. She didn’t think it was the dreaded disease of the past, but a new “high likelihood of reoccurring” disease that will be cured in a matter of weeks when I use the “very expensive not covered by my insurance as my diagnosis is considered a purely cosmetic issue” cream.

As we discussed the treatment of my perpetual “cold” face, the doctor began the skin check. I felt it was going rather well as she made it through my scalp and face rather quickly.

Then, as it went south, it all went south.

The doctor had to leave the room to get her skin marker -the one that is used to circle/mark suspicious spots. Then, copious use of the “not so cool now” magnifying glass began. After I was all scanned and done, there were three moles, according to the doctor, that were no longer welcome to reside on my body ~ two on my back, one on my abdomen two inches lower than my bellybutton – a place the sun has never kissed.

These moles, while they were not displaying all the traits of the really bad kind of moles, you know "gang" moles; they were not cute and cuddly. They were somewhat in-between ~kind of like ferrets.

Quick as a wink, I am signing consent for biopsy forms and filling out a sunny yellow (how ironic is that?) postcard that will be sent to me in 10 to 12 days if moles are in fact cute and cuddly and just looked tough. My spots were named and numbed. Razor blades were drawn. Skin was cauterized and my rogue moles were put in vials to be whisked away to the lab. Minutes later, as I am inhaling the scent of my burned skin, I am clinically bandaged, told not to swim until the biopsy sites are healed (approximately a week), and sent on home……. to wait.

Now that I have actually time to process what happened, I am a bit scared.

I am using much restraint to not don sweatpants and dive headfirst into pints of Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby and eat myself into a comfort induced coma.

Although, I did indulge a bit after my appointment and wore sweatpants the next day as jeans irritate my new second navel. I promise those behaviors are not the norm.

Mr. Spie kindly tells me that “Everything Will Be Alright”, but I really don’t need a reggae song, I really need a statistician as odds will be more comforting to me than crooning.

As this story ends, I, once again, have extra time to think as I am not able to complete all my workouts.

And because every story must have a happy ending, in my free time I have come up with a list of "positives"

1. Not swimming is better for the treatment of my face and my face is looking better -- perhaps it is because I am putting something that costs more than gold on it.


2. No doubled up workout days for a while means more sleep.


3. I am lighter now.


4. Parts of me are newer.


5. I now will not have to deal with the pressure of being a swimsuit model.

In the meantime, I wait. In addition to coming up with more positives, I am going to work on keeping my sunny* disposition and lose myself in the rhythm of everyday life or perhaps, Bob Marley.

*but not too sunny as we have learned, too much sun is not a good thing.